


A Simple Task

by crowealtivs



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowealtivs/pseuds/crowealtivs
Summary: A small part of a much longer project consisting of my wandering elven oc and Abelas traversing the Emerald Graves. :')





	A Simple Task

“So, Abelas. Like sorrow?” Arani asked, grunting as she pushed herself up from the awkward crouch he had insisted they maintain during their hunt.  
  
“Yes, now cease before you frighten our mark away.” He whispered, grabbing her by the arm and guiding her back down to lay on her stomach where she promptly received a mouth full of leaves and bush that barely missed an eye.  
  
“But I mean, it's kind of overly fitting, right?" She trailed off, spitting out a final leaf from her mouth as she considered it. If there was one word to describe him solely based on first impressions, sorrow seemed appropriate. Disgruntled came in at a close second.  
  
He tore his gaze from the grazing ram only long enough to give her a long, suffering sigh, regal nose wrinkling at the bridge as he drew it up in disapproval. She just would not stop talking. “What part of be silent do you not understand?”  
  
She raised her hands, and feigned a look of offense mouthing an apology which only gained another hard look from him before he turned his attention back to the grazing animal not too far off. He slowly reached for the bow on the ground between them, careful not to make any noise and slipped an arrow from Arani’s quiver between his fingers, coming to a crouch before he aimed in on the kill.  
  
Arani watched, both in admiration for the grace he moved but also in an attempt to learn something – anything - from the skilled warrior. An eye closed and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he loosed the arrow. She watched it speed through the air where it met with a squishy crunch dead set between the ram’s eyes. The death cry gurgled out of the animal before it fell to the forest floor.  
  
“Andruil enasal.” Arani whispered to herself and looked away, closing her eyes in a silent prayer. It was always difficult to watch an animal perish, but her companion seemed indifferent to it, making his way over to slice a neat cut along the animal's throat in the first step of preparation.  
  
Arani cringed, looking away again, hands falling naturally to the daggers at her hips and slowly joined Abelas. She was being childish, she knew. It was merely an animal and were it not them to slay it, it surely would have met a savage end. At least this way, it was a fast and clean kill and she silently thanked Abelas for the kindness.  
  
“Keep watch. I will take care of the beast.” Abelas offered, registering the uncomfortable look on her face when she was beside him.  
  
She hummed a reply, shifted awkwardly and then nodded, before stepping away to scan the area. Detecting nothing more than a few nugs passing through the tall grass, she smiled at the adorable creatures and stretched, hands high above her head and back arched to release the tension in her muscles. She spotted a small gathering of elfroot and embrium not far away and headed over to retrieve it. The last of her reserves were used on his injury a few days back and decided with the string of poor luck the two of them seemed to possess, the stock of medicine could come in handy in the future.  
  
Deft fingers gathered them quickly and, spotting another bundle of handy herbs, she turned to them next. An august ram bristled by her, startling out of her concentration and she let out a tiny shriek as she clutched her chest, fearing her heart would explode through it. She wasn't typically jumpy, but after the events of the past week, anything shook her to brace for the worst. Embarrassed, she glanced back quickly with the hope that Abelas didn’t witness her fumble and found that he made busy with skinning the ram. If he had noticed, he made no indication. Relieved, Arani turned forward again, and tilted her head to the side when she saw an unusual hollowing in the curve of a steep hill.  
  
“What do we have here.” She muttered and approached it, brushing aside the dense moss from the overhang that stretched down to the ground below. Her eyes widened upon the discovery.  
  
It revealed a stone door, carvings she recognized as ancient elven, though she couldn’t translate the words. The inner scholar in her wanted to explore, but she remembered her promise to keep watch while Abelas cleaned their lunch – and presumably, meals for the coming days – but it was too much to resist. She chewed at her lower lip, gathering the courage and pressed her hand against the door, oddly warm to the touch. It required all of her weight pressed into it just to crack it open and she gathered another burst of energy to open it just enough so she could slip past and inside.  
  
The room stretched for ages, or at least it appeared to as most of it was cast in darkness and no discernible edges could be found. Four pillars of stone in the center of the room rose to the ceiling, moss and slime emerging from the pool of stagnant water around the base of them, up, up, clutching to the craggy surface. Arani squinted her eyes to try and catch the details of the room, but the sunlight only ventured in so far. Raising a hand, she willed a ball of veilfire, dim before it flickered into a bright flame that lit up the room. It wasn’t as large as she thought, and beyond the pool stood a statue of Fen’Harel guarding an offering bowl.  
  
She headed further in, around the water, ghosting her hands along carvings in the wall depicting the scene of a bygone world where the Dread Wolf locked away the gods and as consequence, the elves fell into ruin. Arlathan had fallen and Arani frowned, regretting her abysmal knowledge of what truly happened. Fen’Harel was often depicted as the trickster god, full of malice for the elves and the gods they worshipped; greedy for them to pay tribute to him and him alone. Arani was all too aware of the fallacies of her people. How inaccurate the histories that the Dalish insisted on spreading were. A fact that strengthened her goal to uncover the truth, to share what wonders had been lost. To travel the world in search of the elven glory that was destroyed, if only to help her people.  
  
She turned her attention to the statue, now before her, and ran her fingers along the offering bowl, clearing the dust from it. She had little on her, but she pulled a small token coin from her satchel and sat it in the bowl before she kneeled. Closing her eyes, she paid thanks to the god, for listening to her prayers before battle and keeping her safe. For allowing vengeance on her father’s murderers and giving her the strength to protect those who could not protect themselves. To her, Fen’Harel was more than the god of rebellion; to her, he believed in righting the wrongs in the world and protecting those who required it the most, who bowed to no one and freed the people from their chains. He was not to be feared, though certainly revered and respected, lest his wrath fall upon you. In all of the elven gods, it was the Dread Wolf she found comfort in the most.  
  
A shout from the forest brought her out of her prayers and back to the room, the veilfire wavered as her focus turned to the clashing of steel and she scrambled to her feet, face twisted in horror.  
  
_Abelas. Shit._  
  
She was half way to the door before a large man wearing the colours of the local rogue soldiers passed by and she froze, waiting to see if her position had been discovered. When it appeared not, she quietly tip toed out of the ruin to peer through the bushes to assess the situation carefully, spotting the still relatively wounded Abelas beheading one of them in one clean swipe with his blade. Her jaw dropped, impressed and a little frightened by his strength but soon joined him and realized they were outnumbered, eight to two.  
  
“Where have you been?” He hissed, and deftly ricocheted an arrow with his daggers that surely would have imbedded itself in her chest had he not moved so quickly.  
  
She didn’t get a chance to answer as another arrow buzzed past them, catching her in the arm as it flew by. She yelped, glancing from the shallow cut on her bicep to the source of the pain and anger boiled in her stomach. A dark grin curled around her lips, akin to a canine bearing its teeth at their prey. This was what she lived for. The air around them electrified and Abelas glanced her way with a wary expression but Arani was too busy finding a target.  
  
Lightning sprouted from her fingertips to one of the soldier’s bodies in a brilliant arc, a chain of electricity pressing out through him to stun their nearby foes and she was running towards them, daggers out and slicing cleanly across one of their throats. A gurgle passed through parted lips, and the soldier was grasping at his neck in a fool attempt to stop the blood that gushed out. It was all the incentive Abelas needed as he joined her, fear taking hold of the remaining men’s hearts as they scattered but it was too late. In quick succession, the two had slaughtered the rebels.  
  
“That seemed too easy.” Arani said, disappointment etched into her face as she cleaned her blades off on the grass and stared down at her final kill.  
  
“You did not answer me.” Abelas stalked towards her, anger overcoming his features. “Where were you? I asked you to keep watch.”  
  
“I was. . .distracted. I’m sorry.” Her excuse only deepened his frown. “Look, we handled it just fine. There’s no need to be mad.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter that we survived ! You had one responsibility and you could not even carry it through. You said I could trust you but you have given me little reason to do so.” Abelas shouted, making Arani feel ten inches tall. The fact that he towered over her as he scolded didn’t help the matter.  
  
Her expression softened, less affronted and leaning more towards guilt. She couldn’t look away, his amber gaze locked with hers and she sensed something beyond anger in his eyes. Fear. Weariness and an oldness that shouldn’t have withered away at his relatively young face. Sheathing her daggers, Arani bowed her head.  
  
“I apologise Abelas. I was careless. You are still healing and you could have. . .” She trailed off, noticing his face loosen into a more passive expression as he stepped back. “It will not happen again.”  
  
He sighed, shaking his head and retreated to the ram that was butchered and ready to be taken back to the villa that they had commandeered for the time being. “Your assistance is appreciated and we did survive, that is something to be thankful for.”  
  
“I doubt it was necessary. You’re incredibly skilled.” She said in hopes to lighten the tension. Perhaps if she had been out standing guard, they could have avoided the fight. Her ears lowered in shame and she followed after him, offering a leather bag to place the meat in for transport.  
  
“I have had. . . .time to hone my skill.” He replied, simply and made work of collecting the meat and hide, offering no further explanation.  
  
Their return to the villa was filled with tense silence. Arani was on edge after her blunder, ears tuning in on any sound, every sound, made in the forest and she jumped when a flock of birds broke to the sky. Her mind was racing, questions about him at the edge of her tongue. If it weren’t for the way he avoided conversation, she might have considered asking about himself but his distant nature provided an assurance that he would have little to say, if he chose to reply at all.  
  
Abelas, for his part, seemed calm, glancing over every now and then to watch her. His face was unreadable and his stare had her soul searching her shortcomings, aware of all her faults and irritating qualities. He said nothing, implied no insults or weaknesses and yet she found herself worrying over them. It was driving her insane. Finally, she looked to him and found him staring up at the treetops, eyes squinting each time the sun broke through the trees and glared down on his face.  
  
“How is your side?” She asked, fingers twisting as she clasped her hands in front of her.  
  
“Better now.”  
  
His mind was elsewhere, and she wondered what someone like him thought about. He revealed next to nothing about himself and she had begun forming theories in her mind. At first, she considered the clan he mentioned belonging to the previous night may have been wiped out by his hand, but the pain in his face when he spoke of them corrected that thought. Perhaps he, like her, had spent most of his life in the wilds. It would explain much about his person, the lack of conversational skills, the untrusting nature, the reason he could bathe in front of her with little concern for his modesty.  
  
Creators, she was thinking about him naked again. This wasn’t good. She rubbed her cheek roughly, pinching it to try and bring herself out of the imagery but it did little help. Sighing, she focused on the sounds of the forest again, the crunch of the ground under their feet, the rush of water from the river they had passed, the singing of the birds. Yes, this was helping.  
  
“Did you hear me?”  
  
She jumped and looked over to him, whose exasperated expression would have been comical at any other moment.  
  
“What?” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “Sorry, I was. . .thinking.”  
  
“About your love story? Your attempt to hide the book last night was poor, indeed.” He inquired, lips pursing into a reserved smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief.  
  
Was he teasing her? No, he couldn’t be. That would mean he wasn’t the stoic and irritable person she suspected and that only made her even more curious about him. _'Of course, he isn’t an ass the entire time. No one is that one dimensional.'_ She chided herself, shaking her head. Then she remembered his question and hoped the flush on her cheeks that crept to the tip of her ears would be mistaken for exhaustion.  
  
“I have no idea what you are talking about. I was thinking about food, if you must know.” It was an obvious lie, but thankfully he let the subject drop but not after his lips parted into a smile.  
  
“As you wish then.”  
  
  
When they reached the villa, Abelas immediately began cleaning the meat while Arani contained a fire pit in the large parlor where they had plenty of room and windows for ventilation. There was still an uneasiness to the mansion, but they found it was calmer during the day and that was when they explored a little further. They found the pantry where there had been pots left on the shelves, as well as canned jams and vegetables that hadn’t yet spoiled. Abelas seemed to enjoy the jam, placing hefty amounts of it on their bread that morning and consuming nearly half the jar.  
  
Abelas speared the meat on the roasting iron and set it over the fire. When she caught him staring at her, she gave a lop-sided grin and noticed the corners of his mouth turned upward slightly.  
  
“You have been alone for a long time.” He finally spoke once the two of them were seated around the fire.  
  
She wasn’t sure if that was a question or statement, but she hummed in response in confirmation.  
  
“Did you not wish to live among your people?” He pried, removing his cloak and folding it neatly beside him.  
  
_‘Your people’_ Didn’t he mean _their_ people? That was strange. She fidgeted under his stare, brows knitting together as she tried to find the words to explain her feelings on the subject.  
  
“I tried. The alienage I found was a horrible place with little love for outsiders.” Anger bubbled in her stomach as she recalled her time there. “I attempted to help them; they were treated so poorly, but they wanted nothing to do with me. They didn’t want change. They were content with living in fear and being subjected to the mistreatment of the humans. So I left.”  
  
“You tried to help them?” Apparently it was a shock to him, his brows raised in careful consideration.  
  
“I did and they shunned me for it. Too sick with fear to know any better.” She hissed, hands clutching the fabric of her tunic tightly. She had spent too long fighting for them and each refusal had wore down her determination. “I was going to find the Dalish when I ran into you.”  
  
He snorted, disgust returning to his face. “The Dalish are no better than children, running around spouting false stories. The markings they wear is a mockery of what they truly represent.”  
  
Arani sat back, intrigued. He spoke as if he knew better than they and yet he wore the mark of Mythal on his forehead.  
  
“And yet, the Dalish are the only ones trying to preserve what we have lost.” She countered, tone heated.  
  
“They know nothing of what was lost and they never will.” Abelas gestured dramatically. The room grew hotter as their tempers flared.  
  
“Oh, and you do?” Arani spat, a bitter laugh followed.  
  
“Yes. I do.” He stated, tone matter of fact and his eyes narrowed on her. “I do not expect a _shem_ like you to understand.”  
  
“Shem. . .What is it with you? You treat me like some child who knows nothing.” Arani cried out, pride swelling. Who was he to speak so cruelly of the Dalish and to her.  
  
He quieted, eyes darting down to the roasting meat, a belligerent expression paused on his face. She would get no answers from him and when that dawned on her, she scoffed and stood, making her way out of the room because she felt like shaking him at that moment. He made no effort to stop her, or apologize and that fueled her need to leave. He had no right to treat her like that, she had been nothing but kind to him and other than that one tiny slip-up with the bandits, she was trying to be helpful.

"Ungrateful barbarian." Arani huffed to herself as she stomped away.  
  
Arani wandered into the back of the mansion, as far away from him as she could get and stumbled upon an impressive library. Her anger subsided, eyes alight with wonder. She had never seen such a large collection of literature before and her mind raced with what wonders it could hold. Her fingertips brushed along the spine of a large volume, ‘Fade and Spirits Mysterious’, and pulled it off from the shelf to take a seat with it at the large wooden desk in the center of the room.  
  
The leather was cracked, worn, and smelled of ink and musty parchment. She smiled, lifting the book to her nose and closed her eyes, relishing the scent that most held with disgust. It was more to her, a gateway to knowledge that so many were unable to obtain. It mattered little if the words within were pure facts; she found that opinions often revealed more to the world and its truth than any certainty a scholar could offer. She brushed off the dust, covering her face with her scarf as she did so and opened the book with such care as if it would fall apart at the slightest touch.  
  
_‘According to the Chantry, the spirits of the Fade are the first children of the Maker. To the Elves, spirits are dangerous and not to be considered; the Beyond holds no welcome. Qunari view spirits and the Void with fear and hatred; it is a land of the dead and none belong there except the deceased. The Dwarves hold little views on either, cut off from dreaming and access to the Fade. Which version is true, perhaps all in their own respects, is uncertain. . .’_  
  
Arani scanned the pages quickly, soaking in the information like a dried sponge in the bath. It was fascinating, another angle on a controversial subject. She spent the next two hours in the library, books surrounding her now, opened and partially read. She wanted to know everything and had forgotten entirely about Abelas and the food he was tending to. She brought her legs up, crossing and tucking them under her butt and leaned forward, over the various tomes, hands running over the pages, committing the text to memory. A small wisp hovered above her head, bouncing back and forth cheerfully as it illuminated the room for her, only happy to come to her aid. Unlike most, Arani held little superstition to the curious wisps. They were mischievous, playful and more likely to lead you to curiousities than harm.  
  
A bowl was held in front of her face, and upon closer inspection, she saw that it's contents was a pleasing smelling stew. Arani glanced up, to the hand holding the bowl and up to the owner’s face. Abelas stared down at her, expression blank, and he sat the bowl down on the desk.  
  
“Eat.” He said simply and glanced to the books spread out on the table, a curiousity flickered across his face for a moment.  
  
Arani gathered the bowl in her hands, sniffing the contents and hummed approvingly. Her stomach growled in response, and she realized it had been over a day since she had anything substantial to eat. She shifted in the chair, bringing the stew to her lips before indulging in the hearty warmth. Abelas watched her, awaiting her decision.  
  
“This is . . .surprisingly delicious considering.” She smiled, looking up to him and watched as he rounded the desk and took a seat at the edge, slipping a tome between his hands.  
  
“I am pleased that you like it.” He said dryly, scanning the text on the legend of Mythal. He frowned, lips twisting in disapproval. “This is offensively incorrect.” He spat, tossing the book aside to return his attention to her. “It is unacceptable how much of what was has been lost to time.”  
  
“It is sad.” Arani agreed, brushing a hand over the book and sipped on the stew. “All we have now are accounts that have been altered each time it is passed down. The truth must be out there somewhere and that is why I intend to find it.” She looked up to him, face set in determination.  
  
“And how do you think to accomplish that?” Abelas inquired, head tilting and crossed his arms over his chest loosely.  
  
“If I had that figured out, I probably wouldn’t be here.” She snorted, setting the bowl on the desk and sighed. “Someone must know something. We can’t all be ignorant. I’ve searched the Beyond for answers and found little other than demons jumping at the chance to offer false information in return for a body to possess.”  
  
Abelas was silent for a few seconds and it was clear he was considering something. What that was, Arani was in the dark but when he spoke this time, his voice was softer.  
  
“I hope that, one day, you will find the answers you are looking for.”  
  
“Thank you. As do I.” Arani smiled up at him, delighted by the unexpected kindness and it seemed to unsettle Abelas.  
  
He cleared his throat and stood, walking over to the large window to their left and rested his hand on the frame, peering out into the forest with a pensive look. Arani remained silent, observing him carefully, the afternoon sun painting his pale skin in a warm glow, the green vallaslin on his forehead drawn down as his brows knitted together.  
  
Golden eyes, made even more brilliant by the sun, watched the trio of nugs in the courtyard frolic playfully, completely at ease in the safety of the villa walls. There was that look again, weariness creasing his smooth features and bringing an oldness to his otherwise young face. It made her wonder, what events in his past could have brought him to such a state of hardened indifference to the world around him. Arani stood, crossing the room to stand beside him, though leaving enough distance between the two of them to avoid encroaching on his personal space. She glanced out to the nugs and laughed quietly as two of them chased one another.  
  
“Where were you headed before you ran into the giant?” Arani finally said after a few minutes of silence and glanced over to him. “Were you just passing through?”  
  
Abelas took a breath before he met her gaze, lips pressed thinly together, eyes guarded. “Nowhere specific.”  
  
Arani arched a brow imploringly, of all the answers she could have received, that was hardly an acceptable reason to her growing curiousity. She turned from the window to face him, wanting to reach out and pull back the mask he so carefully put in place. “I highly doubt that.”  
  
“Doubt as you will, it changes not the truth.” He replied coolly, mirroring her movement to face her in return and then added bitterly, “I am sorry it is not an answer that pleases you.”  
  
Arani bit her tongue, sensing that if she spoke freely, it would yield another argument that she didn’t have the desire to tackle again. Instead, her eyes fell to his chest, where she gathered her patience. “Do you not have anywhere you want to go?”  
  
“I have hardly a grasp on the geography of this world, let alone an idea of a place that might be preferable to here.” Abelas shifted from one foot to the other, shaking his head.  
  
“Come with me.” She said, glancing up to his face with a smile before she nodded back to the desk.  
  
Abelas complied, following her over to retake a seat on the side of the desk as she grabbed a tome that was nearly as big as she was. It seemed to take all her strength to carry the book over to the desk and open it, but when she did, Abelas’ eyes widened as he saw the bright colours of a map. His slender fingers pressed against the paper, gliding over the ridges of the Anderfel mountains, and into the rivers expanding through the continent. His lips parted, eyes scanning over every detail as he explored the lands. When he reached Antiva, he lingered, fingertips tracing along the coastline of the seaside country.  
  
“Oooh, nice choice. Antiva is an extraordinary place.” Arani chirped, taking a seat on the other side of the book, across from him.  
  
“You have been there?” Abelas inquired, looking up from the tome with a near childlike innocence that tugged at her heart. It was the first time he appeared free from whatever sorrows burrowed into his mind.  
  
“Not exactly.” She said with a crooked smile and reached into her satchel that was sat, propped, against the desk to retrieve a small book. “But I have read enough about it to give me an idea of what life is like there. Can you read?”  
  
“Of course I can read.” Abelas scoffed as if the very idea that he couldn’t was an offensive concept.  
  
“Then you may find this book interesting.” She said, extending it out to him with slight hesitancy when his hand met with the leather. “This is my favourite book, so be careful with it.” She paused, giving him a very pointed look. “But I suppose you can borrow it.”  
  
Abelas took the book and cradled it in his hands with a gentleness as if he were holding an infant and smiled down at it. “You have my thanks.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Arani said and waved her hand at him, her smile broadening when she saw the excitement staining his features as he turned to the first page. She hopped up from the desk and left him to _‘The Wonders of Antiva: A Courtesan’s Manifesto..’_ , nearly laughing at the imagined expression on his face when he confronted her about it later.


End file.
